


Late night musings

by Serendipitous_dreamer42633



Category: Strictly Come Dancing RPF
Genre: (i think), Angst, F/M, Fluff, I wanted to do this pairing for ages and boom!, I'm so excited about this!, Little bit of rhyme at the end, Probably will continue as series goes on!, Slightly iffy paragraphing - sorry!, This isn't what I'd normally do but, a small bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-01-21 00:09:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 16,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12445020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serendipitous_dreamer42633/pseuds/Serendipitous_dreamer42633
Summary: So, I never usually do fics in this format but it just really spoke to me and I really wanted to do this so I hope you folks like it!Thank you for reading and I do hope to continue this!Kudos, comments, etc, appreciated! :)(Also, I am still continuing the other fic with lonely_night, I just really wanted to do this!)-x-





	1. The beautiful Debbie McGee

**Author's Note:**

> So, I never usually do fics in this format but it just really spoke to me and I really wanted to do this so I hope you folks like it!
> 
> Thank you for reading and I do hope to continue this!  
> Kudos, comments, etc, appreciated! :)  
> (Also, I am still continuing the other fic with lonely_night, I just really wanted to do this!)
> 
> -x-

Debbie McGee. Oh, Debbie McGee. Giovanni sighed into the darkness. 

Was it Darcey who commented that she could see the amount of respect he had for Debbie? She wasn't wrong there.  
He had so much respect for that beautiful woman; he adored her. He supposed you could even say that he worshipped her. Or maybe that was going too far. But the way that she lifted her leg so beautifully and the way they fit, almost as one, was so mesmerising, like they were meant to be together. He wished that they were. 

He loved how Debbie let him into her world, when she showed him old recordings of herself and her late husband performing together on stage. He let his arm rest behind her head, not quite brave enough to touch her, yet desperately wanting to.   
He wanted Debbie to reach out to him, to tell him that she wanted him to touch her too. He liked how she could be so vulnerable in his presence but he hated how he, himself, never dared to let his guard down. He would teach her the dance steps but she would in turn take him and lead him, showing him how to love, how to feel emotionally, so that it wasn't just acting.   
It was real.   
And when she finished the dance, he would stand there, opposite her, watching her complete the last few steps, in awe of how she moved, how gracefully and how beautifully. She turned back to him, her arms outstretched but he would already have broken out of performance, clapping immediately, unable to give enough of his praise out towards her. Debbie would smile and drink it in but he felt like it wasn't enough. He wanted to submerge her in his love, his feelings towards her. She would walk to him, blue eyes bright, and he would take her in his arms, brushing his fingers against her body, too scared to let them linger, but at the same time, wishing that he could. Then the bright lights of the dance floor would rise and Giovanni would recall where he was: in front of thousands of people on live T.V. He would gather himself together, angry at himself for letting his emotion show so easily.

It was only now, at night, alone, when he could let his mind wander and tears flow free, so in love was he with the beautiful Debbie McGee.


	2. Imagination and fantasy

Darkness around him, Giovanni wiped his tears and tried to smile. He was unable to sleep, instead succumbing to the inner grief that held him. He mused about Debbie, he thought about her, he cried about her and, although it hurt him, he loved her. 

Debbie was perfect. So perfectly wrong for him. 

He was too hot; he kicked his covers off, but now he was too cold; he didn't know what to do.   
He wished Debbie was beside him, caressing him, caring for him, in a way that he, himself, was unable to do.   
It saddened him that the only way he could feel her touch was through his choreography, what he taught her to do. He longed for her fingers to touch his skin of their own accord, to burn into him, painful yet beautiful. It was pitiful, he supposed, how desperately in love he was with her, it was hopeless, but she was all he thought about.

He remembered teaching her how to do the splits; how he'd pushed her, telling Debbie he believed in her, she had so much potential, even when she groaned in pain. He told her that it would hurt and her legs would ache but she'd smiled brightly and said it was okay, so, again, he placed his hands shakily on her legs and gently pushed her down until she was doing the splits. He recalled how she'd grinned up at him and he'd said: "I told you!" She'd laughed and held onto his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as he'd lifted her back up. Just that contact was enough to keep him happy for a few days, a few weeks, even. Now, however, he needed more, he wanted more of her.

He watched her, almost in a trance, he could watch Debbie forever, dancing around him, not quite touching him. She performed yet he didn't, he just stared at her, in awe, dreamily. When she'd finished dancing, he blew her a kiss, wishing he could do more, and she laughed, embracing him, their bodies touching. Giovanni felt the familiar pang of home, by Debbie's side was where he belonged. He needed her. She blew him two kisses, one more than he had, and his heart lifted. He was still in a trance, admiring her, worshiping her. He wished he could fall down onto the floor, beneath her, looking up at her, at her beauty. She would undoubtably tell him to rise but he would refuse for as long as he could, it was almost like he was inferior to her, and he needed her control. 

He loved the way she moved, how she placed her hand so perfectly, wobbled slightly on her feet, yet was still so beautiful.  
She smiled up at him, blue eyes shinning and he thought that no one had ever been so stunning. 

He loved choreographing the dances for her, wondering late into the night as to what steps to make Debbie perform. Whatever he suggested she would execute effortlessly.

He remembered how excited he had been when he was told that he was doing the rumba. He was nervous, afraid, at first, but then Debbie had seemed so genuinely delighted to do the dance with him that gradually his apprehension had worn off.  
He had told Debbie to caress herself at the start of the dance, her slim pale fingers alluringly sweeping down the length of her own body, and he caught his breath watching her, his heart beating faster.   
She smiled at him; "was that alright?"   
Without thinking: "I'm not sure, could you do it again?"  
"Of course." A wink. A laugh.  
Each time Debbie touched herself Giovanni felt a flush spreading to his cheeks, arousal rising in his body.   
She giggled, seeing passion darken his face.  
"Are you okay?"  
He started. "I-I, yes, I'm fine."  
He hated himself for letting her discover his true feelings but at the same time, it was complicated, because he wanted her to know every feeling he felt towards her. He wanted to whisper all these thoughts to her through the dark, feeling her hands cup his face, smiling through the dim lights, just bright enough for him to be able to see her smile.

Giovanni sighed as he remembered their very first dance together, the paso doble.   
He sat on a chair, and she'd walked around him. He'd felt anticipation build up, even though he knew he'd told her what to do. He felt vulnerable, wildly so, and Debbie was dressed in red, so fierce, so controlling. He spread his legs, only slightly, and Debbie placed her foot just in the space in between. There were no words to describe what he felt then, the sensation that rushed through him, taking him by surprise, pushing him off his guard, leaving him exposed.

The wind raged outside his window and Giovanni smiled. Debbie McGee would be asleep sweetly in a house somewhere near him and, although he was alone, he did not feel so sad, unlike before. She was close to him, in his mind, murmuring gently to him, protecting him from his fears. He wasn't scared anymore. But then, he realised, she wasn't next to him really, it was all just a trick of the imagination. Imagination and fantasy.


	3. Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the positive feedback from the last chapters but I'm afraid this chapter won't be quite so good - it felt harder to write and didn't come so naturally. Let me know anyway! :)
> 
> Just a quick note: this is Debbie's POV.
> 
> -x-

Walking up the stairs, Debbie sighed contentedly.   
Giovanni had been amazing in the results show, touching her shoulder gently, almost asking if she was okay. Debbie had smiled, reaching behind where she sat on the purple sofas to stroke his hand in reply, reassuring him that there was nothing to worry about.   
He kept his fingers fluttering about her shoulders, however, unsure whether to believe her or not.   
It was surprising, Debbie thought fondly, that Giovanni knew when she was pretending to be okay and that she wasn't alright.  
It shocked her too when he leant down to kiss her. She supposed Giovanni was just trying to comfort her the best he could, but even so, that didn't stop her heart from beating faster; not noticeably, but enough for her to struggle to retain composure. She hadn't felt that way since Paul -

Stop. Enough about him. Haven't you had your fill of being sad this week? Stop - it'll only make it worse. 

Debbie lay on her bed, wiping the tears from her eyes. This isn't what Paul would have wanted - he'd want to you be happy, she reminded herself. And she was; with Giovanni she was the happiest she had been in a long, long time. There was just something about him that made him special and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She had tried to shut down rumours of herself and Giovanni 'together'. She was admittedly probably older than his mother and, despite how terribly good looking he was, Debbie told herself that she wasn't looking for love. She almost laughed then, who was she kidding, Giovanni was beautiful. She was in awe of how sweet he acted towards her, always striving to make her smile and never unhappy. But when he touched her it was like everything melted away and it was just them, together, no one else.

Her phone buzzed, bringing her back into the present: twitter.  
Scrolling through, a photo caught her eye. Giovanni. This was different, however, to the many other photos she had seen of him. Giovanni was half naked, his chest showing, beautiful and pure. He looked so vulnerable that Debbie gasped, although she didn't know why. She wanted to hold him, to tell him that everything was okay, she would take care of him, but then, she reasoned, that was ridiculous: she couldn't even take care of herself, let alone Giovanni. 

She remembered that interview they did together, it felt like years ago now, they talked about her core strength. Thinking back, Giovanni's reply made her shudder slightly, a sensation she hadn't felt since -   
Never mind.

"Have you seen her?" Giovanni had said, in awe, "she's absolutely perfect."

She wished she could have corrected him, "no, you're absolutely perfect." But she didn't. Debbie wanted to feel his arms encircling her, in the darkness, his voice floating around her ear, reassuring, gentle, and she wanted to comfort him how he was comforting her. She wanted to make him feel loved, because he deserved to be; he was an angel, he was her angel.


	4. Coming home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¡Hola! 
> 
> This chapter is mainly from Giovanni's POV but really it's both of them :)   
> Sorry this is quite so long! I was going to wait to upload it but then I just couldn't! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and hope you like! :)
> 
> -x-

"Woo! Go team!" Debbie laughed, high-fiving Giovanni in the seat next to her.

A (mostly) successful Monday training always put her in a good mood - getting most of the steps and dancing with a handsome Italian man, what was not to like? 

Debbie had agreed to drop Giovanni off at his house and he was chattering brightly to her about the day's training.   
They turned the corner and his house came into view but, when Debbie stopped the car, Giovanni shuddered, shrinking himself into a ball, almost moulding into the seat.

She frowned: "what's wrong?"   
Giovanni shook his head.  
"Ah, I know," Debbie smiled, trying to cheer him up, "you love me so much you want to stay with me forever!" 

Inwardly, Giovanni sighed. Although she was giggling, what she was saying was true, so painfully true. He didn't want to go home, he wanted to stay with her, he needed to stay with her. Feeling a spark of passion inside him, the Italian shivered. There was just something about Debbie. It was almost like there was electricity in the air, hovering around them, sticking them together.

"Do you think I could come round to yours instead?" Giovanni asked, trying not to sound apprehensive.   
Debbie looked at him steadily and then said softly, "I don't see why not, if you really want to. Is that what you want, hmm?"   
Giovanni nodded.  
"Alright then, that's what we'll do." Debbie turned to grin at her dancing partner and he had no choice but to smile back, her happiness infectious.

They arrived at her small rented house and Giovanni smiled, stepping through the door. It smelled of her scent and it was cosy, comfortable, homely.   
Debbie glanced at the clock. "Jeez, I had no idea it was that time already!"  
"Well," Giovanni shrugged, "time flies when you're having fun, I guess."  
She laughed, patting his arm, a small movement which sent slight jolts through his body.   
"So, um," Giovanni began, trying to conceal his reaction to her touch, "would you like me to sleep on the sofa?"   
Debbie looked shocked. "Of course not! You're my guest!"   
"But Debbie," Giovanni reminded her, "you said you only had one bedroom."  
"Well then," she flushed, "that'll have to do, I suppose!"  
Debbie lead the way upstairs, followed by Giovanni, who was attempting to disguise his slight panic.   
Opening the door, Debbie told him to wait while she got dressed into pyjamas ('unless he didn't want to, of course!' To which she received a blush and small shake of the head in politeness) and then let him into her room.  
Before Giovanni could comprehend quite what was happening, how beautiful Debbie looked in her silk pyjamas, how prettily decorated her room was, she had got into bed and was motioning him to join her.   
Gingerly, Giovanni slipped in next to her. 

Minutes passed in comfortable silence and then Giovanni took a deep breath:  
"Debbie?" 

The older woman faced him, smiling. "Yes?"   
"Could y-you stand up, over there?" He pointed anxiously to a space in the middle of the room.  
Debbie looked at the Italian for a few seconds. "You don't need to be nervous, Giovanni."  
The younger man gulped visibly, hands still shaking slightly. He pushed them under the duvet, trying to conceal his nerves and she saw.  
Smiling fondly, Debbie reached underneath the covers, tangling her hand in his, pulling them gently into her view. "Look at you, the most beautiful man I've ever seen, so scared around someone like me?"   
Giovanni looked into her bright blue eyes. They shone with happiness, love filled them to the brim so that they were almost spilling over with joy.   
"Now," Debbie continued, "I want you to say exactly the same thing you just told me to do but without being afraid."  
Giovanni nodded, trying to smile bravely.   
"Hey," she said softly, "I didn't mean you had to fake your emotions."  
The younger man shook his head, confused. "I don't understand, Debbie." His forehead creased with worry.  
"I don't want you to be scared."  
"I-I'm not scared."   
"Ah - now you're lying." Debbie smiled. "You forget I can see right through you."  
"That is true." Giovanni murmured, looking up at the older woman.   
Debbie winked in response, "come on then, tell me again."  
Giovanni took a deep breath, preparing himself: "could you stand in the middle of the room?"  
Debbie grinned. "That's a bit better, less shaky, hmm?"  
Giovanni nodded, beaming at the praise he received.  
"And yes," Debbie continued, "I can, for you."

The younger man watched as she moved effortlessly to the middle of the room and wordlessly, he followed her.   
"What would you like me to do, boss?" She laughed, running a hand through his hair.   
Giovanni smiled, and said, in broken English: "can I-I just say that your laugh is really beautiful."   
Debbie laughed again, utterly radiant, or so Giovanni thought.   
Debbie's expectant smile reminded him that he was supposed to be telling her what to do. 

"Um, yes, could you just stay standing there?"   
"If you'd like." Debbie replied, looking a little confused.   
Slowly, not breaking eye-contact, Giovanni lowered himself onto the floor, crouching beneath the older woman, until he was looking up at her with large brown eyes, innocent and beautiful.   
"Giovanni, what are you-" Debbie was cut off by the man hushing her, begging her to be quiet. She complied, although still mystified.

Carefully, Giovanni reached up until the tips of his fingers touched her waist and hips, letting his hand flutter across her body. Debbie gasped quietly, looking down at him, trust clear in her eyes.  
Slowly, Giovanni straightened his legs and caressed her stomach and then, tenderly, her breasts. The older woman's hand gripped his hair, although not so hard that it hurt, just enough to be pleasurable. Debbie ran her other hand gently down his shoulders, his back, and her touch was so beautiful and caring that Giovanni moaned quietly into her chest.

"Giovanni." Debbie whispered.   
The younger man paused, shuffling away from her body, scared he made a mistake and that she didn't really like what he was doing at all.   
"No, no," Debbie hurried to soothe him, her voice a little hoarse, "don't stop; I only wanted to say something."  
"Oh." Giovanni breathed slowly, relief coursing through his veins.   
"I just wanted to say; don't be afraid of expressing your pleasure or anything like that, okay?"  
Giovanni nodded gratefully.   
"I-I want to hear you, alright?" She said truthfully.   
"Alright." He whispered in answer.  
He resumed caressing her, and, in between gasps, Giovanni was almost certain he heard Debbie murmur: "you're such a good boy" as she kissed his head, his forehead, and, when he reached her face, she kissed his lips. Then thinking better of it, she stepped back, away from him. 

"Debbie?" He looked at her, confused, worried, scared.  
She smiled softly.  
"I'm sorry Giovanni, I don't think you know quite what you're letting yourself in for."  
"I do know, Debbie." He spoke in earnest, trying to convince her that he did know what he was doing, he knew perfectly well, he knew that he loved her and he didn't care about anyone else.  
"No, let's leave it here for now, shall we?"  
Giovanni looked down at the ground, shame burning in his cheeks. He should have known she didn't want this, she didn't want him. He should have known she wasn't looking for love - she'd made that clear to him from the start. Tears filled the backs of his eyes - how could he have been so stupid? 

"I'm so sorry." He whispered.  
"It's not your fault." Debbie murmured, walking forwards towards him again, trying to reassure him that it wasn't his mistake, that it was hers.   
Giovanni edged away from her, trying to separate himself from her, trying to ignore his emotions crying out for her to hold him, to tell him it was all okay, she hadn't meant what she'd said.  
Sighing, Debbie walked back to her bed. "Come on, I'm not letting you sleep on the sofa anyway."  
Miserably Giovanni forced himself to stagger into the bed and Debbie's open arms greeted him.  
"I thought you said -" he started, even more bewildered.  
She nodded, "I know, I know I did."  
"Then why -"  
Debbie shook her head, "never mind."   
Giovanni crumbled into her welcoming arms, succumbing himself to her warm body, letting himself weaken in front of her.  
"Is that better?" Debbie murmured.  
"Mmmhmm." He answered, trying to make as little noise as possible so not to shatter his happiness. 

A few minutes later, Giovanni felt Debbie's breathing become heavier and more regular, sleep claiming her.   
"I'm sorry Debbie." He whispered into the darkness. "I'm so sorry."


	5. Going too far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments, they were really appreciated! I hope I answered all questions okay, if not, just let me know in the comments.
> 
> Sorry this chapter is a little bit shorter but hopefully I will be back to writing slightly longer chapters next time - we'll see!
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> -x-

"Debbie?" Giovanni murmured into his pillow. There was no reply.  
He got out of bed quietly and glanced around the room. She wasn't there. For a second, fear seized him and his body trembled, he dropped down onto the carpet, curling up into a ball. Last night was terrible - it was all his fault. All of it.

Footsteps brought him back to the present and gingerly, Giovanni glanced up.   
"You don't have to lie down there." A familiar voice murmured.

Debbie. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered, closing his eyes.  
"It's not your fault." She said, crouching down to him. "Could you come and help me do something, do you think?"   
His eyes snapped open at the thought of doing something useful and helping the older woman. "Of course."   
Debbie smiled and offered her hand to him. He took it gratefully and stood, slightly hunched.   
She lead him to the bathroom, her fingers hooked to his. He followed.

"Could you face the wall for a second?"  
"No problem."   
A few seconds later, a soft hand touched his shoulder, and the Italian shivered, electricity rushing through his body. 

Giovanni turned and his eyes widened when he saw her, a blush rose to his face, his heartbeat quickened.   
Moisturiser dripped down Debbie's exposed body. "Sorry, I forgot to do it last night."  
Giovanni nodded, unable to speak.   
"Would you perhaps like to help?" Debbie asked, smiling.   
Again, he nodded, approaching her nervously. 

Gently, she began to undress him, transferring moisturiser from her pale hands onto the Italian and he moaned quietly, her fingers massaging his chest, dropping down to his jeans.   
"Debbie." He whispered, leaning against the wall, eyes closing.  
"It's alright darling." She spoke softly, caressing him.  
"I-I don't think I'm ready."  
She straightened carefully, looking him in the eye, smiling. "That's okay, that's fine, Giovanni, really."   
"Really?" He replied nervously.  
Debbie laughed quietly - "It's fine!"  
Giovanni began to smile, a grin brightening his face.   
"I know something that will really make you happy though -"  
"You do make me happy!" She beamed at him and he smiled in return.  
"But I know something to make you even happier."  
"Do you?" She asked curiously, cocking her head to one side.  
Giovanni moved closer towards her until his bare chest pressed into hers.   
"What are you-" Debbie began.  
He winked mischievously and before she had time to protest, the Italian was tickling her mercilessly.

Laughing, they both fell to the floor, covered in moisturiser, Debbie held tightly to his arms, half giggling, half screaming, Giovanni laughed with her, happy because she was smiling.


	6. Extra special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks!
> 
> I'm sorry if this seems a bit rushed or anything like that. I have had a very busy week and next week will be worse so I just wanted to post this asap.  
> Hope you like!   
> -x-

Giovanni smiled down at his dance partner, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders, letting his fingers roam her back, feeling her skin under the fabric of her dress.  
He gently probed at her aching shoulders, trying to calm her; she must be so tired after Saturday, she deserved a massage, or anything he could do to help. 

It was Debbie's birthday soon, Claudia reminded him, bringing him out of his trace, was he doing anything special?   
Feeling Debbie's muscles tighten at her name, Giovanni ran his hands up and down her shoulders as he replied to Claudia, begging her to relax. He told the presenter that he had a special thing ready for a special lady: Debbie. He wasn't going to tell her though - it was a surprise.   
He smiled to himself, he had been looking forward to Debbie's birthday ever since he'd known her; the day when he had an excuse to treat her like he wanted to - like his queen.   
Glancing up at him, Debbie stroked his hand gently. He gazed down at her; an expression filled with a burning desire, a mix of lust, love and passion that made the older woman shiver in anticipation.

Looking back on Tuesday, Debbie smiled. Giovanni had spoilt her to bits.  
She was greeted by flowers, a framed picture and a slightly nervous Italian voice, silently begging her to like his gifts.   
She almost cried with happiness: he didn't need to go to so much trouble just for her. She was nothing special.  
Of course, Giovanni had automatically corrected her: she was more than special, she was his queen. His 'majesty' he'd said, referring to her new title: 'Queen of Latin'.   
She'd smiled at him and then he'd taken her out for lunch, to a pretty café, fairy lights illuminating her blonde hair. She let him stare, his brown eyes full of adoration and love.   
"Do you think I could come round tonight?" He asked, looking down at the table, pushing his fork around his plate.  
Debbie watched him for a few seconds: "of course."  
Giovanni smiled. "I promise to make it extra special."  
"Today already is extra special." Debbie said, her eyes creasing in fondness.  
"But - extra, extra special!"  
She laughed, he was adorable.   
"Alright, but you'll find it hard to top this!"   
He winked. "I'm sure I'll find a way."

She had driven Giovanni to her house. The car journey had been quiet, almost silent, unlike Giovanni, Debbie thought, but then, she reasoned, maybe he was lost in his thoughts.

"Debbie?" They were lying on the double bed in her bedroom, staring up at the ceiling together. Giovanni said he could almost picture the stars staring back at them from outside the window.  
He spoke uncertainly and the older woman turned on her side to face him, running a hand from his shoulder to his hand, trying to reassure him.  
"I- well, I was wondering, why do you have so many pictures of Paul?"  
Debbie sighed. It wasn't that she didn't like speaking about her late husband - she was okay with it, sometimes it was hard, but that was just how it was.   
"Why, does it bother you?" She asked, a frown creasing her forehead.  
"A little." Giovanni murmured, attempting to turn away from Debbie.  
"You don't need to be ashamed, love."  
Debbie spoke so gently that a tear formed in his eye. Quickly, he brushed it off - he didn't want to ruin anything.  
"You can cry if you need to." She whispered.   
"I- I'm so sorry." His voice broke, tears slipping down his cheeks.  
"There's nothing to be sorry about." Debbie murmured, "nothing at all, okay?" Taking him in her arms, she realised that the younger man was shaking, his body shuddering with every breath, trembling as she caressed his back.  
"I- I just wanted you to have a good birthday." He snuffled into her chest, trying to stop his grief.   
"Oh, Giovanni, I had such a good day, it was one of the best in my life, and you know why it was?"  
"Why?"   
"Because you were in it. That was why it was one of my favourite day's." She smiled down at him.  
He looked up at her, large brown eyes worshipping the woman above him.  
"Debbie, I- I love you."  
She shook her head sadly. "Don't say that."  
"Why can't I say that, Debbie?"  
She sighed. The way he said her name was so heartbreaking, like he was relying on her to tell him that everything was going to be okay, that she really did love him too.  
"Because you just can't." And then, softer; "I'm sorry."  
Giovanni nodded slowly and turned around, his head resting on the pillow.  
Anguish and pain filled him, washed over him and left him empty. He didn't understand why it had to be like this. He didn't understand what he had done wrong.


	7. On your knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> I really wanted to get this up before Saturday so here I am, at 11, trying to upload! Warning, there is a little bit of smut in this, but not very much because Gio got tired (❤).  
> As a side note: I hope obsessive2105's 'creative writing thing' went okay! 
> 
> Anyway, hope you like! Sorry if the end seems slightly rushed, time limits are scary! 
> 
> -x-

"Debbie?" Giovanni asked the older woman as he got into her car.   
"Yes?" She asked, fastening her seatbelt. They had just been on 'It Takes Two'. Although fun, there was something about the show that made you scared, like it could be your last time each week, reminding you how precious Strictly was.   
"What did you mean when you said 'I'm used to seeing men on their knees'?"   
Debbie smiled. "What do you think I meant?"  
Genuinely bewildered, but with a blush growing in his cheeks, Giovanni shrugged: "I don't know."  
Leaning over to help the younger man fasten his seatbelt, Debbie looked up with a wink. "If you're lucky, I might show you later."  
He nodded, his breath catching as her fingers touched his thigh. 

The seatbelt wouldn't stay. "Sorry Giovanni," Debbie muttered, her voice snapping him out of his trance, "I think the seatbelt might be broken. Would you mind sitting in the back?"  
"No, not at all." He replied, getting out the front seat and gracefully moving to the back.   
Debbie surveyed him briefly in the rear-view mirror. "Is that one working?"  
Hearing the click, Giovanni nodded.

The car journey seemed even shorter than usual, he thought. He stared at Debbie for as long as he could without feeling guilty, admiring how concentrated she was on the road, the gentle slope of her neck, the blonde wisps of hair framing her face. Every so often, she caught him looking and smiled reassuringly back at him. Quickly, Giovanni would look down, awkward and shy, brown eyes ashamed, but then he would glance up again and Debbie's blue eyes would still be staring at him, forcing him to hold his gaze.  
"You can look at me if you want." Debbie murmured from the front seat.  
Giovanni smiled back, his fingers gripping the seat, nervous. 

"Giovanni? Can I ask you something too?"   
"Of course." He replied automatically.  
"I don't really know how to word this without seeming..." She broke off, unsure what to say.  
"Jealous?" He suggested for her.  
Debbie nodded. "It's just, sometimes I see you with the other pro's and I know they're like family to you, but sometimes I just think -" She broke off, embarrassed. "Sorry Gio, I don't mean to sound horrible."  
He shook his head in disbelief: "you? Horrible? Never!"   
Debbie smiled, Giovanni's Italian blood seeped through him, betraying his passion.   
"Sometimes I see you with the other celebrities and I get the same way." The younger man admitted, smiling a little sheepishly at the seat in front of him.   
She nodded again. "You don't need to be."   
"Nor do you." He returned.  
The older woman glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. "Well then, that's settled." The hint of a smirk pulled at her face, giving way to a coy smile.  
He looked at her curiously but interested: "What's that smile for?"   
"Nothing," she answered, "I'm just looking forward to tonight."

As they pulled up on the driveway, Giovanni shivered with anticipation. He followed Debbie into her house, welcoming the warm temperature and cosy furnishings. He thought he could replay the moment that he walked into that house forever, greeted by Debbie's scent, warmth, comfort; home. 

She led him upstairs into her room.   
"You will tell me if I do anything you don't like, won't you?" Debbie asked, her forehead creasing for a second.  
He tried to speak but his mouth was dry and his voice strained, so instead he just nodded, trying not to show his nerves.  
She ran her fingers up and down his arms and then gently caressed his chest, helping him take his shirt off.   
The cool air that hit his bare skin was electrifying, Giovanni thought, and looking at the woman opposite him, a spark of passion flared up inside him and he pressed his lips to hers, hands cupping her head, pulling her towards him. She gasped into the kiss, her hands feeling up his chest to his head, exploring every inch of his body.

She broke the kiss, pushing him carefully down onto the floor, on his knees.  
"W-will you show me now?" His voice was shaky, desire dark in his eyes, a fire of lust spreading through his body, unquenchable.  
"Yes." Debbie replied, "but, first of all," She crouched down so that she was at his level, "I think I might need a bit of help undressing."

Giovanni leant towards her, carefully taking off her t-shirt and then her leggings, which she helped him with, pulling them down over her ankles. With shaking fingers, the younger man unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the ground gracefully.   
His eyes glazing over for a second, Giovanni cupped his hands around her breasts, gently squeezing and then carefully sucking on her nipples, almost like a baby would. Debbie moaned his name quietly, her hand supporting his body and he slumped slightly into her, focused on pleasuring her. She cradled Giovanni, stroking his thin back, feeling the muscles tightening under her touch and then relaxing one by one as she continued to caress him, relaxing him, tired from the day's dancing.   
"Debbie." He whispered, and the vibration sent shivers up her spine.  
"Giovanni?"   
"I want to pleasure you, but..." He broke off, his soft voice giving away his exhaustion.  
She smiled down at him. "Shall we get you into bed, hmm?"   
He nodded sleepily, still clinging onto her as they stood.  
Once in bed with difficulty, Debbie looked at the beautiful man beside her, his brown eyes closing slowly.   
"Goodnight Giovanni." She whispered, turning off the light.  
"Goodnight." He murmured back, yawning almost delicately.   
Gingerly, he reached for her hand under the duvet and Debbie gently put her hand in his. A small smile flickered on Giovanni's face, and then sleep claimed him.


	8. Truths and lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!
> 
> So just as I was about to upload this chapter my heart stopped for a second as I thought I'd accidently 'cut' all of my typing! Thankfully I managed to rescue it before I totally freaked out, so here goes!  
> -x-

The journey to Blackpool was shorter than Giovanni remembered. He sat next to Debbie, watching her looking out the window of the coach. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned, smiling at him. She gently touched his hand, her palm resting in his. He stiffened, slightly embarrassed by the gesture now that they were surrounded by people. A blush rose to his cheeks but his jeans seemed to tighten, his body shuddering at her touch.   
Leaning in towards him, Debbie whispered: "imagine they're not there."   
Giovanni nodded, boldly putting an arm around her, holding her close to him.   
The noise from the rest of the contestants seemed to get louder, but with Debbie's hand stroking his chest, the voices seemed distant, like it was just himself and the woman next to him.  
As the sky darkened, Giovanni's eyes felt heavy, tired from the constant training over the week. Debbie's fingers caressed his leg, and she looked up at him, watching the younger man's eyes close.   
"It's been a busy week." She murmured, almost reading his thoughts.   
He smiled and then nodded, agreeing with her. He struggled to keep his eyes open but the noise in the background faded to a dull hum, comforting, and the coach was warm, welcoming, pulling him into sleep. Briefly looking around, Giovanni realised most of the contestants and dancers were asleep, lying against their seats, eye closed, breathing heavily.  
"See," Debbie spoke softly, "you don't have to worry about anyone else."   
Debbie's voice sparked an emotion inside of him, but he couldn't tell what, hazy with the idea of sleep.   
"I'm not worrying." He tried to deny the truth and Debbie giggled quietly: "you don't need to lie to me."   
No, she was right, he thought, there was no reason to lie to her.   
"I won't." He promised.   
"Before you go to sleep, could you tell me, why didn't you want to go home that night a few weeks ago?"   
He frowned and then remembered. "No reason." He tried to brush it off.  
"No lying!" Debbie reminded him with a smile.  
"Alright - there's someone there who I don't want to go home to."  
Debbie looked curious: "who? If you don't mind me asking."  
Glancing around, Giovanni took a breath. "Her name is 'Luba', my girlfriend."  
There was a pause and Debbie's blue eyes pierced him, searching, worried.  
"Why don't you want to go home to her?" A hint of jealousy seeped through her voice but Giovanni thought he was just imagining it.   
"I- I don't know. I'm scared." He admitted.   
"What're you scared of?" Debbie asked, concern softening her face.  
"I just- I want to be with you."  
"Giovanni, so do I, but we can't, you know that."  
"What about -"   
"I know. What happened a few nights ago was ..." she broke off, sighing.  
"I thought-" Giovanni began, his voice shaking.   
"What did you think?" Debbie asked, her voice still soft.  
"I thought you wanted me."   
"I do want you, it's just. Well, it's not really right, is it?"   
She was pushing him to agree and he knew, but it wasn't fair, he decided.  
Changing the topic, he said, as confidently as he could: "are you jealous of Luba?"   
Debbie sighed, glancing out of the window.  
His hands shook, awaiting her answer so he pushed them underneath his legs, trying to steady them.  
"No." She said finally, but she didn't look at him, and Giovanni doubted her answer.  
"Look at me and say that again."  
Debbie shook her head. "Why do you make this so hard?"  
"It's not my fault." He murmured in reply, scared at her voice, suddenly harsh.  
There was a silence, and they looked away from each other.  
"I know," Debbie said, her voice gentle, hating herself for scaring him. "I'm sorry."   
"It's okay." Giovanni said, still apprehensive.  
"No, I really am sorry." And then, "come here."  
She wrapped her arms around his shaking body, trying to comfort him. He slumped into her, a single tear showing how much she frightened him at that moment. Carefully, Debbie wiped it away, guilt clouding her heart. "I'm sorry, Giovanni." She murmured into his hair.

An announcement from the coach broke them both temporarily out of their embrace: 'Almost in Blackpool!'  
Slowly, confused voice echoed around the bus, excitement clear. People were waking up and Giovanni drew away from his partner just as she let go of his body.


	9. Blackpool Hotel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom!
> 
> I have to say, I am pretty proud of myself for the efficiency in which I updated this. I watched the episode, went upstairs, and just wrote!   
> Hope you all like it! :)
> 
> -x-

"Can you come home to mine, please Debbie?"  
His face was pained, his voice so quiet and so shaky.   
"I don't think that would be a good idea," Debbie began, before being cut off by Giovanni: "please." His brown eyes stared up at her, the first time he had looked up from the floor after the dance off. Tears filled them, flooding his usual joy with grief.

Debbie felt something within her give, she couldn't bear to see him like this. 

"But Luba." She murmured softly, not wanting to upset him further, but knowing she was.  
"I-I don't care about her." He was too forlorn to be passionate and his voice broke, desperation seeping through him. "Please - the thought of loosing you -" Giovanni shook his head, looking back down at the floor again, anguish rising through his body, a sob catching in the back of his throat, choking him.

In the middle of the street, Debbie reached for him, the rain pouring down on them, drenching them both. They stood, embracing, Giovanni crying on her shoulder, Debbie trying to hold the tears back, trying to brave for him.   
She didn't know how long they had been standing there for, Giovanni snuffling into her jacket, his hands flung around her neck, encircling her waist, tracing the outline of her lips, an expression of wonder and pain on his face. 

When she called for a taxi, he was still standing next to her, his body shaking, disbelief pressed plainly on his face. He leaned heavily on Debbie as they walked into a hotel, struggling up the stairs to their room that she had booked for the night. 

She gently helped him out of his wet jeans and t-shirt, admiring they way his muscles tensed as she touched him, and how he looked so vulnerable stretched out in front of her, legs almost touching the end of the bed, all dignity leaving him.

Getting into bed next to him, she looked at him and he turned, sensing her eyes upon him.

"I thought, for a second, we might have been eliminated." He murmured, looking up at her.  
She smiled back at him fondly, running a hand through his black hair. "Don't say it like that."  
"Like what?" His brow furrowed.   
"'Eliminated'; we could still see each other after strictly."   
Debbie knew she was partly lying. It would be unlikely that they would ever see each other again, thanks to both of their busy schedules and Luba.   
Giovanni, almost reading her mind, shook his head. "Luba."  
"What do you mean?" She tried to feign innocence, "she wouldn't get in the way-" she was stopped by her partner's grave face staring back at her. Debbie looked down at the duvet. He was right, she would get in the way. He had told her, on the coach journey, that his girlfriend didn't like her because of their close bond. She didn't blame her really.

"Well I'm sure Luba is far better than me anyway." Debbie smiled, trying to lift the mood.   
His eyes widened, shocked that she would ever suggest such an idea. "She isn't - no one could ever be." He spoke louder than he intended, heat pooling in his stomach.   
"I bet she's beautiful though, isn't she?"   
Giovanni shook his head wildly. "Not compared to you!"   
"And you two," Debbie continued, "you look great together, don't you."  
Passion overtook the younger man and he gasped at her words; "please, Debbie, stop saying these, these things!"   
"Giovanni, I'm sorry, but I'm just so much older and-"  
She was cut off by Giovanni leaning over her, resting his arms either side of her body, entwining his fingers in hers. His breath was warm on her face: "don't ever doubt yourself, ever."  
Debbie stared up at him, his compassionate eyes gazing down at her.   
"Alright." She whispered, her voice a little shaky, "I'll try not to."  
A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Thank you."  
His hand moved from hers to touch the older woman's blonde hair. Twirling a strand around his fingers, Debbie saw his eyes loose focus, his head drooping, lids heavy.   
"I like your hair." He murmured, his voice distant, "it's beautiful."  
She smiled, in spite of herself, watching Giovanni was like looking at the most beautiful man in the world. 

"Are you not tired?" She asked him softly, after a while.  
He yawned just as she spoke and replied that he was but he wanted to look at her for as long as he could.   
"I was scared of loosing you." He admitted quietly.   
"So was I." Debbie replied, her hand touching his cheek.  
"I want you to know something, Debbie McGee." Giovanni spoke louder, as if he has something to prove.

"I love you."

Debbie opened her mouth to tell him that he shouldn't, but her partner stopped her: "don't tell me it's wrong."  
"Alright." She said, giving in to his determination.  
He grinned at her and then rolled back onto his side of the bed, closing his eyes.


	10. Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... first of all, I would like to say how much I was so looking forward to Debbie and Giovanni dancing the Argentine tango - it really was amazing! ❤  
> Secondly, I'd like to say that I'm so sorry this chapter might seem rushed. I know it's not very good - I'm sorry! 
> 
> -x-

Debbie had been excited about the Argentine tango for the whole week, even though it was hard, but now she was sitting on the chair on the ballroom, adrenaline spiked inside her. 

Giovanni walked towards her, his hand on her leg, like they had rehearsed, but it felt different this time.   
The music seemed louder than it had been before, the audience clapping, dimmer, and when she looked at him, there was something different in his eyes. His touch seemed to send sparks down her body, an arousing sensation. It was electrifying.

He lowered her into the splits, pushed her down until she touched the floor. She stared up at him, leaning on him for support. His eyes looked back at her and they seemed to be so conflicting in emotion that for a second, seeing her dance partner so wildly confused, passionate and intent, Debbie wanted to kiss him - it was the most beautiful image she had ever seen.   
And then he pulled her back up, regret clear in his eyes. But then his expression changed again: she remembered her next gesture. Gently, she swept her hand across his brow, his hair, moulding her body into his. Feeling his fingers press into her skin, his hand touch hers, she knew that they weren't acting anymore. The look in his eyes was too passionate for him to be pretending.

When she asked him about it afterwards, he hugged her tight, as if he was never going to let go, and a joy filled her, so much that it almost dazzled her. She asked him again, and he told her, quite resolutely, that he never had been pretending - his emotion was all real.

He asked Debbie, while she drove to her house, if she wanted to do the dance again with him, just the two of them. "Yes." She answered.

She led Giovanni to her lounge and he took hold of her hand, entwining his fingers in hers.   
"Do you want to go from the beginning of the dance?"  
"No." She replied, "can we go from the splits?"  
"Of course." Giovanni grinned, a twinkle in his eye.

As the younger man helped her into the splits and she stabilised herself on his arms, Debbie looked back up at him. When she touched the carpet underneath her, she told him "don't lift me back up."   
He frowned. "What do you mean, Debbie?"   
She smiled at the way he said her name. "I want to look at you, that's all."  
"Oh." He murmured, gazing down at her, desire clouding his eyes now that he understood her.  
"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?" She whispered, her fingers flitting up and down his leg.  
In a dream-like state, Giovanni shook his head, lost in her blue eyes. His trousers seemed to tighten but he tried to ignore it, focusing on the woman beneath him. He caressed her blonde hair, shining under his hands, radiant.  
"You're so beautiful." She said quietly, earning a blush from the Italian man. Her words sent tingles running down his spine and lower.  
Debbie noticed his slight discomfort. "Don't be embarrassed."   
He smiled, but a little awkwardly, so Debbie reached up to him, her hands lingering over his hips. The younger man winced at her touch, unable to control the sensations washing over his body, leaving him with unquenchable lust.  
"Let me take care of you." Debbie persuaded him, and he fell back onto the sofa behind him, letting her fingers probe his tight muscles, and then, in awe, lower down his body, her hands touching his arousal.  
Giovanni moaned quietly and then gave himself up to her, closing his eyes.


	11. Enough of explaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> So I said I'd update soon and I guess I have! This was chapter was so much easier to write so I hope it's alright for you all!
> 
> Thank you!  
> -x-
> 
> P.S: PLEASE DONT KILL ME IN THE COMMENTS ❤

Giovanni's body shook from Debbie's touch. She ran her tongue carefully up the length of his cock and he stiffened, the world blurring before him, spinning from the pleasure she was giving him. She smiled up at him, her fingers undoing his shirt, scratching his bare skin, leaving small red marks of love behind.  
He smiled hazily back at her, his soft smile turning into a frown as he watched Debbie's expression change. 

She looked slightly confused: "what happened to you?"  
Giovanni leant forwards to see what his partner was looking at, the moment slipping away.  
"What do you mean?"  
Her fingers gently traced the scars on his lower stomach. "Who did this, Giovanni?" When she looked up at him this time, her eyes betrayed her worry and he started, surprised that she cared so much about him.  
"They're- they're just old scars." He hurried to reassure her.  
She shook her head, her forehead creasing. "I'm not stupid, love, these aren't old. They're new, aren't they?"  
It pained him that Debbie asked him as a question what they both knew was the truth. It was as if she was desperate for him to tell her that there was some mistake, her eyesight must be going, and for a second he was tempted to make up some story for her, but then he realised that, no matter what happened, he could not lie to this beautiful woman in front of him. She saw straight through him anyway. 

An abrupt knock at the door pulled Giovanni out of his thoughts. "Who's that?" He asked, his eyes widening, staring at Debbie.  
She looked back at him very calmly. He admired her - inside she must have been panicking but on the outside she was so composed.  
"I'm sure it's nothing." She replied, stroking his arm, trying to soothe his fear.  
The knocking grew louder and the younger man paled. "Debbie?" He whispered, begging her silently to answer the door, scared at what might happen if she didn't.  
"Alright." She smiled, walking to the door. He was sure he could've seen her legs wobbling slightly but he tried to ignore it.

"Where is he?" A harsh female voice demanded.  
He heard Debbie's confusion in her voice, fright seeped through too, he recognised, and suddenly the room seemed cold and hollow, he was scared, he realised. 

"Where's who?" Debbie asked, and he imagined her backing up against the wall, fear seizing her. 

Sure enough, he heard footsteps approaching the lounge, getting louder and louder, heels clacking against the wooden floor. Debbie hadn't been wearing heels, he remembered, and his throat tightened, a chill sweeping through him.  
"Debbie?" He called out, too scared to be silent, desperate to hear her voice.  
"I-it's alright." He heard her say, although something didn't seem right - she sounded shaken.

"Giovanni." A familiar person stood in the doorway, looking at him in contempt.  
He swallowed, trying to moisten his lips and clear his throat at the same time.  
Nervously, Debbie approached the woman in the doorway.  
The woman turned to her, letting her walk into the room.  
Debbie ran straight to the younger man and he gathered her in his arms, trying to wipe away the tears forming in her blue eyes.

"Oh I see; you're together then, are you?" She spoke with such anger, spitting the words out like hot blood, scorching Giovanni's heart.  
"Luba," he began, "I-I can explain."  
"No," her eyes were hard. "I've had enough of your 'explaining'."  
She walked towards Giovanni and when she was standing above him, she looked so resentful of him that he wondered if she had ever loved him like she had said she did.  
Debbie raised her head to meet Luba's eyes, still clutching Giovanni. "Were you the one who scarred him?"

Luba ignored her: "Giovanni."  
He looked at her.  
"We're going home."  
He shook his head, passion rising inside him. "This is my home; with Debbie."  
"Stand up." She ordered.  
Giovanni stood without hesitation; he knew what was about to happen.  
When Luba hit him, he accepted it without shame. It was only as Debbie gasped in horror and shock that he realised something was wrong.

"Don't you dare!" 

Giovanni gazed at Debbie as Luba inflicted him with pain, trying to tell her that it was fine: he deserved this.

Debbie tried to pull the other woman off him, but Luba merely kicked her hard, causing her to scream and fall to the floor, a sound that chilled Giovanni to his core.  
With a toss of her head, Luba dragged Giovanni out the door, ignoring his cries for Debbie, and drove away.

Blood trickling down her body, Debbie lay still, dizzy and in agony.  
Her phone buzzed and, out of the corner of her eye, she read the message, not daring to move.

'I'm so sorry.'

A second buzz.

'I love you.'


	12. At the hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I'm so proud of myself for updating! Yay! Sorry it's so small but I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> -x-

Sunlight streamed into the room that Debbie lay in. She opened her eyes, wincing in pain - the room was spinning, her head dizzy.

She tried to move and get a glass of water but someone gently pushed her back down onto the bed, telling her that she shouldn't move.   
As her eyes focussed, she saw Giovanni, his forehead creased in worry.

"The doctor's told me that you aren't allowed to move." He murmured, by way of explanation.  
Debbie nodded, "I see." 

Giovanni didn't just look anxious, she observed, he looked scared and uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly in a chair next to her.

"Are you okay, love?" She asked him, trying to ignore the pain shooting through her leg as she turned to face him.  
"Debbie - no moving!" He reminded her, putting a hand on her side, stilling her body.  
"Sorry." She apologised with a smile.   
He didn't smile back and looked serious and grave, all happiness leaving him.

"What's wrong?" Debbie sighed, her forehead creasing.  
"I just- I can't believe I let Luba kick you."   
It was only when Debbie really looked at Giovanni that she saw he had been crying; a single crystal tear glistened on his cheek.  
She tried to reach out to him and wipe it gently away but he shook his head and her hand dropped.

"It wasn't your fault."' She told him.  
"It was." His voice rose, his hand shaking. She had never seen him this way before.  
"She hit you," Debbie attempted to change the conversation, "how many times has she done that?"  
Giovanni looked away, at the ground. "Many times."  
"Oh my god." She whispered. "You should have said something."   
"No," he murmured, "I'm glad I didn't."  
"Well, I'm not." 

Giovanni hunched his shoulders, still looking down.   
"I'm sorry," Debbie said gently, "but I could've helped."  
"I- I don't want you to."  
Debbie frowned, confusion betraying her emotions. "Why not?"  
"Because I deserve this." He said, staring back at her, "I deserve all of this. Look what I let her do to you - she should be hitting me - you should be hitting me."   
"No!" Debbie gasped. "I would never - you don't deserve it at all!"   
"I do." Giovanni protested earnestly.  
"No," she leant over to him, resting her hand on his, and this time he didn't tear away. "None of this was your fault."  
"But look at you," Giovanni's voice was quieter, exhausted from his emotions, and, Debbie wondered, lack of sleep.   
"I'm fine." She reassured him. "Just a few scars."  
"That's the thing!" Passion shook him again, "you're scarred and you shouldn't be! - it's my fault, all of this."  
Realising she wasn't going to win the argument, Debbie sighed. "Come here, come into bed with me."

She held out her arms to the younger man and for a second, she was worried he might refuse her, but innocently, he padded over to her and gracefully slipped in beside her.   
She cradled his head and ran her fingers through his black hair, admiring the softness of it.  
He buried his face in her chest, lifting his head and kissing her neck, his brown eyes beginning to glaze over. 

"Debbie - before I forget." He said drowsily.  
"Yes?" She whispered back, kissing his forehead.  
"I wanted to say that Luba has sort of, um, kicked me out."  
"Oh, really?" She murmured, running a hand up his arm.   
Breathlessly, he nodded.   
"Well, would you perhaps like to stay with me for a while?"  
Giovanni nodded again, a small smile pulling at his lips. "I don't know how long I can stay for but -"   
He was cut off by Debbie saying: "as long as you want, Giovanni, you stay for as long as you want."  
He snuffled sleepily, and Debbie again frowned as she thought about how little sleep he must've had. It didn't matter now though, she supposed, they were together, for how long, she didn't know.

She was brought out of her thoughts by Giovanni mumbling; "I love you, Debbie."  
"I love you too, darling." She replied, tightening her arms around his slim body.


	13. Possession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... guys...  
> Honestly, I cut this short because I wasn't sure about writing this. It really stressed me out actually!   
> Do let me know what you think, it could just be me, it's been a tough few days and I really can't concentrate on anything - hence again, the short chapter, sorry!  
> Please let me know, sorry it isn't great!
> 
> -x-

Lying next to Debbie, Giovanni sighed contentedly. There was no one in the world who he would rather be next to.

She smiled at him, her blue eyes sparkling. So much emotion shone from her eyes; happiness, pride, love.

"I'm so proud of you, Debbie." He murmured, his hand tracing the outline of her lips.  
She shivered at his touch, entwining her hand in his other hand. "It's all down to you - you choreographed a beautiful dance."  
Giovanni smiled. "But you made it beautiful."

In the darkness, Giovanni felt Debbie gently linking their legs together, making them as one, and he moved himself closer to her, edging towards her, until their heads touched. She could hear his heartbeat quickening, and she reached up, her fingers stroking his jawline. 

"I'm so glad it's just us now." He murmured, his voice sending tingles through her body.  
"For me," Debbie whispered, "it was always you."  
Giovanni bent his head, placing his lips on the older woman's, kissing her softly.  
She wrapped her arms around him, almost trying to inhale him, the kiss left her gasping for more.   
She kissed him again and again, her hands all over him, his hair, his hips, his shoulders, her touch electrifying Giovanni.

Slowly, the younger man removed his hand from hers and gently opened her mouth.  
Debbie watched him, interested, her forehead creasing slightly.   
He extended his finger, carefully putting it in her mouth and, realising what he intended, she began to suck on his finger, swirling it around her mouth, oddly sensual. Giovanni pushed deeper into her mouth, his other hand supporting her head, adding another finger.   
Debbie moaned quietly, feeling a damp patch growing in between her legs.

He took his fingers out her mouth and moved them down towards her vagina, Debbie's eyes widening when she understood.  
"Is this okay?" He asked quietly, pressing the, now wet, tips of his fingers to her vagina.  
"Yes." She replied breathlessly, grinding onto his finger, her body begging him to go deeper.  
Giovanni obeyed, slipping two fingers in, building up a rhythm, waiting for her to adjust to it.  
She moaned his name, desperate for more.

"Would you like me-"  
"Please." She begged, and he smiled: "your wish is my command."

Giovanni moved so he had easy entrance into Debbie, admiring her figure, her slight curves, the way her body shifted at his touch.   
Slowly, he lowered himself onto her, quickly placing himself between her legs and pushing into her.  
Debbie moaned, her eyes staring back at him, darkened by desire and lust, her fingers encircling his body, her nails scratching his back, marking him as her own. 

Now that she finally had him, no one was going to take him away from her.


	14. York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks!  
> So I wrote this in about 20 mins after I saw in the news that Giovanni accompanied Debbie to York for panto rehearsals. Naturally, I thought this would be great to write about, even though the chapter is short. :)  
> Hope you all like!
> 
> (Also, the music gio was listening to was 'say something' which randomly came on shuffle when I was writing, so if you want to listen to that while reading it would be extra awesome)  
> -x-

Giovanni woke up, stretching, to see a hastily scribbled note on Debbie's pillow. He frowned, hurt momentarily blinding him: had he done anything wrong last night? She couldn't deny that she had screamed his name when she came -   
He shook his head, leaning over to read the piece of paper.

'I'm in York - Panto - I'll be back Monday.'

Quickly, he dressed, pulling on his jeans, a white shirt, raking a brush through his hair. He stopped at the bathroom, pausing to wash his face. As the icy water hit him, he wondered what he was doing, what was he thinking? 

The car journey was long and Giovanni was tired, more exhausted than he remembered ever being. His shoulders felt heavy and he slumped into the window, his breathing slow. He pinched himself to stay awake, but it only left red marks and it didn't feel right - only Debbie could do that.

He stopped at a service station, quietly ordering a cheese panini, devouring it hungrily, then wincing from the pain in his stomach. Debbie would have made him eat slower, carefully, taken care of him.

Music played in the background, Giovanni acknowledged, it seemed dim, mumbly at first, and then he distinguished the words.  
He sighed, recognising the song. His heart pulled, swayed by the sad melody and a tear rolled down his eyes. Why didn't she say something? She couldn't have thought he'd stay at home, without her, could she? He couldn't manage without her - she was the stability he needed, even though she wasn't really that strong herself. He didn't care. He needed her; only her.   
Confusion rocked him; she didn't mention the pantomime. She didn't mention anything. Was he of no importance to her that some play separated them?   
'Stop' he told himself. 'You're overanalysing.' But nothing but worrying doubt seeped through his veins. 

He stood up, hunching his shoulders, making his way back to his car, wiping his eyes.   
Sitting down, his body heaved and shuddered, a sob rising, threatening to break him, betray his emotion.  
Gritting his teeth, Giovanni steeled himself, starting the car and driving forwards. York was an hour away.

Where was she? In the middle of York, in a small hotel, softly asleep?   
He had no idea where she was.  
Then his phone vibrated, and hope shot through him. Twitter. A photo of the hotel she was staying in. 

When he got to the street, he was drenched, heavy rain pouring down his face, soaking his clothes and his hair. He stared up at the bold street lamp, the light illuminating him in a halo. He smiled. Not much further to go. 

 

There was a knock at the door.

"Debbie?" Came a familiar Italian voice.  
"Sweetheart?" She replied, unlocking the door.  
Standing there, in front of her eyes, cold, wet and defeated was Giovanni.   
He looked at her, his eyes half-closed, swaying on his feet. "Debbie." He said again, his voice breaking.  
He leant on the doorway, his hand shaking and his face pale.   
"Are-"  
Debbie reached out and put her finger to his lips, trying to silence him, tell him that he could ask questions later.  
"Are," he continued, and this time, she let him speak, "you happy to see me?"

A tear escaped the older woman's blue eyes.   
"I've never been happier."


	15. Isn't she lovely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I'm so excited (no pun intended!) that Debbie and Gio are in the final! Woohoo!  
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter and thank you for reading! :)
> 
> -x-

"Debbie and Giovanni!" 

When Tess called out their names, disbelief shot through Giovanni, his heart stopping for a second, his hand brushing his eyes, trying to wipe away his tears.   
Debbie took him in her arms, her smile lifting him, causing him to grin back. 

They were in the final. 

Himself and Debbie. 

Giovanni hugged his partner and kissed her, on her cheek, never quite daring to kiss her lips on live TV. He wished he could though. But that would come for later, he reminded himself, when they were alone.

Driving home with Debbie was beautiful.   
The older woman looked at him as they waited at the traffic lights.   
Her blue eyes sparkled and Giovanni thought they seemed to say more than words ever would. He needed to hear her say it anyway though, and she sensed this.   
"Giovanni," Debbie said, a smile pulling at her mouth, "I love you; you worry that I don't, don't you."  
He nodded in reply; he did worry sometimes; in his eyes she was so amazing and too beautiful for Giovanni to even begin to think she would like him. 

"Don't worry, love."   
"I'll try not to." He promised, glancing out the car window at the snow on the pavements.  
"Do you like the snow?" She asked him, noticing his interest.  
Looking back at her, Giovanni smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I do, although," he paused to consider, tilting his head slightly, "it can be very cold."  
Debbie laughed. "Well, it is snow after all."  
Embarrassed, Giovanni flushed; "that's true."

"You know," Debbie began, turning back to the road, "I thought we might've been in the dance-off."  
"Me too." Giovanni admitted.  
"I-I could feel you shaking." She murmured.  
The younger man was silent, staring intently at the snow outside.  
"I-I was scared." He spoke quietly, shrinking into the car seat.  
"You were crying too, weren't you?" Debbie pressed, her hand stroking his leg, causing a tingle to run through him.   
"Yes." He whispered, large brown eyes staring up at the older woman.  
"It's alright." She told him reassuringly, her hand back on the steering wheel, her forehead creasing.  
Giovanni sighed, missing her touch now that she was focussed on driving.

The snow started falling faster and thicker, and Debbie frowned. "I'm not sure we'll get home." She said apoplectically.   
"It's okay." Giovanni replied. "There are hotels and things ..." he trailed off, the suggestion hanging in the air, awaiting Debbie's approval.  
"Yes." She agreed, and relief filled his body. "I think we may have to book a room."  
Saying this, she pulled away from the road, down a small bumpy lane, away from the traffic.

"Where are we going Debbie?" Giovanni asked, curiosity seeping through him.  
"I stayed in a hotel awhile ago down here." She told him. "It was really lovely and perfect for finalists." She winked at the man next to her, and he grinned in return. 

The hotel was brightly lit and cosy on the inside, a log fire burning in the corner of the reception. 

"I'll go and book," Debbie said, and noticing Giovanni's shivering, "why don't you go and stand by the fire for a minute or two?"   
"Alright." He smiled, glad to have an excuse - the fire looked so inviting. 

He watched her talk to the man in the reception out of the corner of his eye, and rubbed his hands together, bathing in the warm glow of the fire.

He looked, dazed from the heat, around the room.   
Pictures hung from the walls, mainly of famous people; famous women, he corrected himself. Each person looked beautiful, glamorous, in a vintage sort of way that you only see in old Hollywood movies. 

A woman caught his eye in one of the pictures. It was framed in a gold border, stately and expensive-looking, placed just above the fireplace. The photo was in black and white, but it didn't need to be coloured for him to realise who the woman was, or for him to see that beautiful blonde hair, those bright blue eyes.

"Debbie?" He asked, as she walked towards him with the key to their room.  
"Giovanni?"   
"That's you, isn't it." He pointed to the picture above the fire and Debbie laughed. "Yes, I think it is."  
He stared at it a while longer before Debbie beckoned him upstairs, standing by the doorway.

"Coming!" He called over, tearing his eyes away from the photo.   
So it's true, he thought, some people can be both beautiful young and old. 

She laughed when he reached her. "Can't keep your eyes off me?"   
"No," he smiled. "You know, I think you look even more beautiful now."  
Debbie's smile broadened and a slight blush rose to her cheek. In the dimly lit room, Giovanni thought he had never seen her look more attractive.  
"Oh dear," she said, her fingers encircling his arm, "what are we going to do with you?"  
Giovanni grinned cheekily. "I know a lot of things you could do with me."  
Debbie laughed harder. "Honestly! Come on, you."  
"Oh, and Debbie." Giovanni stopped her, his hand touching hers, sending a shiver down her spine.   
"Giovanni?" She asked.   
Feeling a dampness growing in her knickers, she shifted slightly on the stairs.

"How do you feel about celebratory sex?"

Debbie smiled at him, interested, her blue eyes, searching. "You're very bold this evening, aren't you."  
Giovanni grinned in return. "It's probably just Strictly talking."


	16. The light of the fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!
> 
> I'm so happy to finally post this - it seems like it took forever to write!   
> Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> -x-

Giovanni closed the door behind him, hearing the click as it shut.

A fire burned gently in the corner of their bedroom, spreading heat throughout, warming Giovanni.   
Debbie moved towards the bed in the centre of the room, running her hands over the duvet, smiling up at the younger man as he walked towards her.

"It's a pretty room, isn't it?" 

He nodded, speechless as the glow of the fire illuminated her face - she looked stunning.  
When he came close to her, Debbie reached up, her hands caressing his face. "Look at you." She breathed, her blue eyes staring at him. "You're so beautiful."   
His heart stopped for a second, his breathing shallow. Giovanni's eyes fluttered, closing momentarily at her caresses. It seemed like a long time since he had felt her physical affection. 

"I've missed your touch." He murmured, his fingers straying towards the older woman's jacket, stroking the velvet outside of it and playing absentmindedly, as if in a trance, with the folds and shape of it. He liked silky material, especially when it suited Debbie so well.

She smiled. "Would you like me to undress?"  
"Yes." He replied quietly, letting her lower him onto the bed.

He watched as she stood opposite him, undoing her jeans, the sound of the zip sending shivers down his spine. This was for real.

Debbie folded her jacket and her t-shirt on a nearby chair, leaving her shoes and jeans on the floor. She looked down at him lovingly, her hands covering her chest, a flush rising to her cheeks.

His forehead creased. "Why are you hiding your body, Debbie?" Confusion was evident in his voice and she slowly moved her hands away, exposing her breasts.  
Giovanni smiled, noticing the mirror opposite the bed.

"Look at yourself." He told her, and she moved in front of the mirror.   
"You're lovely." And then he laughed quietly to himself. "Isn't she lovely."

She grinned, walking back to him, swaying her hips purposely, a glint of mischief in her eyes.  
Giovanni gulped, swallowing, his mouth suddenly dry, his body weak. 

"Debbie." He whispered.  
"Giovanni?" She murmured, placing her knees either side of him, lowering herself down onto his body. She ran her fingers through his black hair, admiring the colour of it and the softness.   
"Make love to me." His brown eyes looked straight at her and she stared back, leaning forward to kiss his lips.  
He gasped into the kiss, his hands fondling her breasts, in awe at the beauty of them. She moaned quietly, sending vibrations through every inch of his body.

Her hands began to undo his shirt, clumsily fumbling at the buttons, mostly unsuccessful.  
Reluctantly, Giovanni pulled away from the kiss, his lips tingling, helping her take off his shirt. 

Once his chest was bare, he watched her eyes darken, lust overtaking her, her breath coming out in small gasps.   
His hand on her back, he steadied her, asking through his touch if she was okay. She nodded in reply to his silent question, her fingers tracing his tattoo and his skin, carefully lowering until they reached his jeans.

"Debbie." He whispered, his voice breaking, his body shaking at her touch.  
Moving her hand in between his legs, the older woman felt the throbbing of his erection, pushing through the dark material.

"P-please." His voice was strained, his eyes shut tightly, shivering in anticipation.  
Slowly, Debbie unzipped his jeans, pulling them off, throwing them onto the floor.  
Peeling away his underwear, her eyes widened at the sight of him fully naked, exposed in front of her, vulnerable and pure.

His cock twitched as she wrapped her hands around it, pumping up and down, spurred on by his low moans.  
She lowered herself and put him inside her mouth. He groaned at the sudden warmth on his cock, pleasure coursing through his body. "C-can you-" he stuttered, crying Debbie's name, dazed from the sensations he felt.  
"C-can you," he started again, breaking off with a moan, his eyes watering.  
Sensing what he was asking, Debbie positioned herself above him, sinking onto his swollen penis.  
Giovanni gritted his teeth, a small yell still escaping him.

He supported himself on his arms, tilting his head to get a better view of the woman above him.  
Debbie's hair stuck to her face, her breathing laboured, her eyes screwed tightly shut.  
"Debbie." He panted, thrusting into her.  
"Gio-" she gasped, her voice higher pitched than usual, her fingers digging into his skin.  
"Look at me." He urged, feeling the older woman's vagina clench around his cock.  
"I-I don't think I can last much-"  
"It's okay," Giovanni said, his voice faltering. "Just look at-" his throat tightened; he wouldn't last much longer either.

Debbie's blue eyes fixed on his, sending him over the edge, his control disappearing.  
She bit her lip as his semen shot inside her, hot and burning, painful in a good way.  
She closed her eyes and her body collapsed onto his, shaking violently as she came, his name on her lips. He wrapped his arms around her, trapping her, calming her down.   
Her body heaved, shuddering, even as he soothed her.

They lay together, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed.  
Surrounded by only the light of the fire, Debbie smiled at him.

"I love you."


	17. Like mother, like son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!   
> Hope you're all okay! :)  
> Here's another chapter which I'll hopefully follow up before Saturday.   
> We can't watch the finals Saturday so any updates I do may be a little later after, sorry!  
> -x-

Waking up, Giovanni smiled at the woman next to him.

Her blonde hair cascaded over the pillow and gingerly, afraid of waking her, he touched her hair, feeling the softness of each wave.

Sleepily, she rolled over to face him, her eyes fluttering open.  
She smiled, remembering last night. 

"You were wonderful." She told him, and he blushed; "it was all you."  
She laughed quietly, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "I was barely holding it together."  
"That makes two of us then." He grinned, reassuring her.  
She sighed contentedly. "You just felt amazing - I'd never felt like that before."  
"Really?" Giovanni asked, his smile widening. That fact that Debbie was able to feel as pleasured and as a loved as he wanted her to was rewarding for him.   
"Really." She replied, her eyes fond.

The sunlight streamed into the room, highlighting Debbie's blonde hair, reminding them both of the time. 

He watched as the older woman got out of bed, opening the curtains.   
She turned round to face him and realised that Giovanni was already looking at her. She giggled, leaning over to kiss him. "Come on you, its time to get up." She ruffled his hair and he winked at her, mimicking the sound of a cat purring.   
She laughed again. "If this cat wants his milk then he'll need to go downstairs."  
His mind full of Debbie, Giovanni grinned cheekily.  
She gasped, pretending to be serious: "what a dirty mind you have!"  
He smiled innocently. "You weren't complaining yesterday."  
"Oh my, my." Debbie mock-scolded, "what has gotten into you, hmm?"  
He laughed in reply, slowly getting out of bed. "Debbie? Do I have to get up?"  
"Yes! - it's half ten!"  
He sighed, rolling his eyes, knowing it would annoy her, wanting some sort of response.  
"Honestly!" Debbie groaned. "You don't want to miss breakfast, do you?"  
Giovanni's ears pricked up. "Breakfast?"   
Debbie nodded, smirking.   
"Okay!"   
Stumbling out of his pyjamas, he threw on his shirt, jeans and shoes.  
"Ready!"   
On cue, his stomach rumbled.  
Debbie laughed, looking pointedly at his bare chest. "You might want to do your top up."  
"You could do it for me?" He suggested, his voice shy.  
She smiled. "If that's what you want."

He gasped as her fingers brushed his skin, unprepared for her touch.  
Carefully, Debbie buttoned his shirt, her hands straying occasionally, tracing his muscles.   
Giovanni could barely breathe, quivering under her caresses, desperate for more. He was tempted to rip off his top altogether and repeat last night, but then, he reasoned, breakfast came first. 

He followed her down the stairs, into the reception, noticing the photo from yesterday.  
She led him to the breakfast room, and he marvelled at the food on display.  
Debbie grinned at his amazed reaction and one of the waitresses told him to 'help yourself' with a little giggle. Debbie's hand seemed to tighten on his and he frowned, wondering what was wrong.

"I'll just grab the table over there." Debbie told him, pointing to a small table near the widow.  
He nodded, and she walked off, leaving him alone.

In disbelief, Giovanni grabbed a bowl and selected a little bit of everything, being unable to choose.  
He made his way to Debbie, plate piled high, and she laughed.  
"A little bit peckish?"   
"Just a bit." He smiled in return, sitting down as the older woman went to get herself breakfast.

The waitress from earlier appeared next to him, tossing her brown hair and pursing her lips.  
"Are you liking the food?"  
Giovanni was going to reply that he hadn't had a chance to try it yet because he had been interrupted, but then he restrained himself.  
"It's lovely, thank you."  
She giggled. "Your accent is cute."  
He blushed. "Thank you."  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Debbie approaching and relief coursed through him.  
"Actually," the waitress continued, "you're really cute too."  
"Um." Giovanni flushed furiously. "Thank you." He stammered, unsure what to say.  
"Do you want any more food?" She winked at him, her hands moving to her hips suggestively.  
"Um. I-" 

"What's going on?" Debbie asked, a hint of annoyance brimming in her voice.

"Oh hello," the waitress smirked coldly, "you must be his mother? I was wondering if I could have your son's phone number."


	18. Not his girlfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!  
> Because you all seemed to like the last chapter (but in a angry/sad sort of way!) I decided to post again - lucky you ;)  
> Thanks for all the lovely comments and feedback, it's all really appreciated.  
> Excited for the finals (or whenever I get to watch it!)  
> -x-

Giovanni looked awkwardly at the floor, the food on his plate suddenly seeming a lot less appetising.

"I'm sorry?" Debbie asked, the anger in her voice becoming more apparent.  
"What?" The waitress frowned. "I'm sorry - are you his grandmother instead?"  
"She's not either." Giovanni murmured, not looking up.  
"So I can still get your number, can't I handsome?" Her voice was honey-sweet and Giovanni shifted uncomfortably.  
"No, you can't!" Debbie spoke loudly, venom seeping through her words.  
"Well why not?" The waitress nudged Giovanni, winking. "I think your granny is a bit too overprotective."

Heat rose to his cheeks and he glanced at Debbie standing opposite him. She was flushed, breathing heavily, hurt clear in her eyes.

"She isn't my grandmother." He told the waitress.  
"Who is she then?" She demanded.  
"I'm his-" Debbie paused, her throat tightening, shame consuming her.  
"Girlfriend." Giovanni whispered.

The waitress stared at him, her eyes widening. "Your- your girlfriend?" She stuttered.  
"No." Debbie interjected, her voice sharp.  
Giovanni frowned at her. "What?" He asked, confused.  
"I'm not his girlfriend."  
The waitress laughed. "I didn't think so."  
Debbie smiled. "I'm just a friend."  
"Oh," Giovanni looked down, "I see."

The older woman reached forwards, touching his arm gently. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "Just let me do this."  
"What is there to be ashamed about?" He asked her, his voice rising a little, passion spurring him on.  
"I'm not comfortable." She told him, and he sighed.

The waitress looked at them both, their cheeks flushed.  
"I'll let you two be." Then, as she walked off, she turned, flicking her hair in Giovanni's direction. "See you, sexy."

Debbie sat down, staring at the man in front of her, his breathing heavy, forehead creased, eyes alert.

"What do you mean you're 'not my girlfriend'?"   
"I just- I'm not comfortable with saying that I am yet."  
"Why not?" He pressed, an urgency flooding through his veins.  
"Because I'm just not." Debbie's blue eyes met his. She smiled sadly. "I'm sorry."  
"What will it take to make you comfortable?" He asked, his voice softer.  
"I don't know." She murmured, and she sounded so vulnerable that Giovanni reached for her hand over the table, squeezing it gently. "It's okay." He told her.   
"It's not." She whispered back, her voice breaking.   
"It is," he insisted, concern clear in his face. "You say when you're ready - I'm sorry I acted-"   
Debbie cut him off. "You were perfect and I'm sorry for not telling you earlier."  
He shook his head, dismissing her apology. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

He looked down at his overflowing plate. "I'm not hungry." He murmured sheepishly.

Debbie looked at him and then at the plate. "You'd better bloody eat."  
He glanced at her to make sure she was joking and, sure enough, fond laughter lines confirmed that it was okay to smile.


	19. Illness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> This chapter is based on the fact that it's reported that Debbie isn't very well all over the news. :(  
> Here's hoping she's okay for the final! (Fingers crossed)  
> Hope you like!  
> -x-

Debbie coughed, and Giovanni glanced up. She was unusually pale.

"Debbie?" He asked.   
She nodded, her face strained.   
"Are you okay?"   
"I just-" she broke off, her hands shaking. "I don't feel so well all of a sudden."

Panic flashed across her partner's face and his brown eyes looked worried and concerned.

"Do you want to lie down?"  
"No, it's alright, I-"

Giovanni looked at her properly. 

Her blonde hair stuck to her face, her eyes appeared red and a little bloodshot.  
Gingerly, he reached forwards, putting his hand to her forehead. He gasped; it was burning hot.  
"Debbie - I think you may have the flu or some illness or something." His speech was rushed, like he didn't want to tell her what he feared.  
"I was thinking - I've felt a little 'off' for a few days now."  
"Debbie, you should've said something!" His eyes widened and he grabbed her arm, dragging her to her feet.  
The older woman swayed and he steadied her. His forehead creased - this wasn't good. She felt fragile, weak in his arms. 

"Let's get you upstairs." He told her, his voice softer, realising how unwell she really was.   
"Alright." She whispered, not trusting herself to speak louder.

As they walked up the stairs, Debbie leant into Giovanni at his instruction, her shoulders sagging, body heavy.

"We're almost there." He murmured, trying to be encouraging.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Giovanni saw how tired Debbie was. She leant against the wall, her eyes closing, breathing laboured.

"Debbie?" He asked, afraid.  
"I'm fine." She replied.   
"No you're not." Giovanni frowned, gently scooping her into his arms, lifting her from the floor.

He carried her to their bedroom and laid her carefully onto the hotel bed.

"What are we going to do about Strictly?" She asked quietly.  
Giovanni shook his head. "I don't care about that anymore."  
"Giovanni-"  
"No, Debbie." He interrupted her. "I just want you to be okay and if that means not doing Strictly then fine."  
"We can't throw it away now." The older woman protested.  
"It depends how you feel on the day." He spoke with finality and she was silent.

Even in the warm room, Debbie shivered, and Giovanni wrapped her closer to him, scared to let her go.  
"It'll be okay." He whispered.  
Debbie buried her head in his shoulder, trying to somehow block out reality.  
"We have to get back at some point  
though." Giovanni reminded her quietly.  
She nodded, not speaking.  
He sighed, feeling her shaky breathing against his body.

"Look at me." He murmured, lifting her chin up, met with her blue eyes.  
"We're going to be okay."

A small smile flitted across her face.   
"I believe you."


	20. Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> I did suspect Joe would win but hey, never mind, at least Debbie and Gio were amazing! ❤  
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter (even though it's pretty long!) and hopefully I'll write again before Christmas!  
> -x-

The moment Joe's name had been called out, Debbie started clapping. 

She felt Giovanni's arms around her, she felt him sigh; a mixture of happiness and sadness.

"That was our last dance." He murmured, and Debbie was sure she could see the trace of a tear glistening on his cheeks.  
She smiled up at him. "Wasn't it beautiful."  
He nodded, kissing her forehead. "There's still the wrap party." He suggested, a glint shining in his eye.  
"You're right." She grinned, her fingers finding his, entwining them together.

They watched as Joe lifted the Glitterball trophy, triumphant. 

Giovanni smiled at Debbie. "You were my winner really."  
"And you were mine." She whispered back.

The clapping of audience grew louder and Debbie turned her attention back to Joe. The other contestants were gathered around and both Joe and Katya were in the air, lifted by arms.

"No one would notice if we just disappeared." A sweet Italian voice murmured in her ear.  
"You're right again, bellissimo." She replied.  
Giovanni's eyes widened. "Bellissimo?"  
Debbie nodded, winking, as she led the younger man off the dance floor and out of the studio.  
"Do you have your suitcase with you?" She asked him, glancing at his empty hand.  
He shook his head, blushing. "I'll just go and get it - let me get yours too."  
"Oh, why thank you, kind gentleman." She beamed at him and Giovanni's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, his neck hot.

Debbie watched her dance partner walk away from her and frowned. How was she supposed to tell him that she knew about -  
Not now.  
But when else?  
She'd tell him as soon as he got back.

Breathing heavily, the Italian man came into view, jogging slightly lopsided, two suitcases and a bag in his hands, another bag slung around his shoulders. 

"Debbie," he began, as he neared her, panting, "what the hell have you got in this suitcase?"  
She giggled quietly at his disbelief. "I'm sorry, love, I forgot it was so heavy."  
He shook his head. "How do you even carry this normally?"  
She smiled at him. "I don't."  
He sighed. "I see."  
Debbie took the suitcase from him, pulling it behind her and he followed her out the doors of the studio.

They walked to Debbie's car; Giovanni opening the front door for her and then walking to the boot, taking both their bags.  
Grunting with effort, the younger man lifted the suitcase into the boot.  
"How do you manage to pack so many things?" He asked her, confused.  
She laughed. "I'm going straight to panto, remember."  
"Ah. Panto." He looked down and Debbie could have sworn he seemed sadder than before.

"Giovanni?" She asked, as he walked round to the front, sitting beside her.  
"Debbie?"  
"I'm sorry for mentioning panto."  
"It's okay." He said quietly. "I'll just miss you."  
"We can still talk, I'll just be busier than usual." She smiled, reaching over to touch his hand.  
He moved his hand away from hers and she frowned.  
"I don't want to loose you now that I've found you." He murmured, staring out the window.  
Debbie started the car, removing her hand from his leg. She sighed. She had to ask him now: "Is this girl to replace me?"  
"What?" He asked, turning to face her.  
Not daring to take her eyes off the road or look at him, Debbie pressed: "the girl that the newspapers are talking about."  
"What girl?" His confusion could not disguise the panic in his voice.  
"This Jess girl, you know." She tried to sound relaxed, like the rumours didn't bother her. "The one they say you've been secretly dating."  
"Jess Wright?"  
"That's the one."  
He looked down. He didn't know how he wanted Debbie to react.

"I just- I don't want to be lonely without you." He admitted quietly.  
Debbie nodded slowly. "I understand."  
"No, Debbie." He continued. "I love you but without you..." he trailed off, unsure what to say. "No one can replace you and you're all I want, but when I can't have you, I- I won't know what to do with myself so I have to distract myself."  
The older woman was silent. "Is that what women are to you - a distraction?"  
"No, no, no!" He shook his head furiously. "I didn't mean it like that, I just- I need something or someone to rely on when I can't have you."  
"You can have me-"  
"No, Debbie, I can't." He told her, running a hand through his hair in agitation.  
"Yes, you can." She stared at him, her piercing blue eyes forcing him to look back, forgetting the road momentarily. "You can always have me - don't, please don't be with this girl."  
He sighed. "Are you jealous?"  
"No," she said, her voice shaking slightly, knowing that a part of her was lying. "I'm sad because you should know that I'll never be too busy for you."  
"But I- you're too good for me Debbie."  
She smiled. "Who put that idea into your head?"  
"I don't know." He frowned.  
"Luba?" She asked, touching his leg, eyes back on the road.  
"Maybe." His forehead creased. She sighed. "Whatever, or whoever it was, please; I love you; panto will be over soon and then it'll just be us."  
He smiled. "Alright - if you're sure."  
"I'm sure." She glanced at him, thinking how beautiful he looked.

She noticed him looking at her as they pulled into her driveway.  
"What is it?" She asked, nudging him.  
"I was just wondering what you're wearing tonight."  
"At the wrap party?"  
He nodded.  
She smiled, a little sadly, Giovanni thought.  
"I'm just wearing a skirt and a top." She brushed the question aside and Giovanni frowned: something wasn't right.

Debbie told him to wait inside the car for her to get changed. She joined him a few minutes later. He watched her walk up to the car, her skirt blowing in the breeze. 

Giovanni sighed quietly, a tear falling from his eye. Her skirt was designed to look like a pack of cards.

"You can't get over him if you keep reminding yourself." He whispered as she sat back down next to him.  
"I'm sorry?" 

He wasn't sure if the older woman had heard him or not, so he shook his head, worried he'd regret what he'd said. "Nothing."  
She looked at him a while longer, studying him with a sort of hungry interest. The younger man felt vulnerable under her stare, exposed. Then, a flicker of a smile flitted over her face and she turned her eyes on the road. "Lets go."

The drive to the wrap party was short, too short for Giovanni to wonder properly what Debbie would've said or done if she had heard what he'd said before. The more he thought about it, the guiltier he felt - he didn't know what it was like to lose someone.  
"Debbie, I'm sorry." He murmured.  
"What for?" She smiled.  
"I said something before that you didn't hear - I don't think I wanted you to hear it - and I don't think it was a nice thing."  
"No? I'd ask you what it was - but do you think I'd want to know?"  
He shook his head slowly. "No, I don't think you would."  
"That's alright then." She patted his arm gently and the younger man felt shivers up his spine.

"Debbie, when you touch me, I- I can't think straight."  
She looked at him, a smile pulling at her lips. "Is that so?"  
He nodded, embarrassed.  
"Well," she whispered, stopping at the traffic lights, "when you touch me it's like I see my whole life in front of me."  
Giovanni shuddered, his lips parted, as if he was going to say something in reply, but his body stopped him, not wanting to ruin the moment.

The lights turned green and Debbie faced back to the road, her fingers touching the Italian's hand.

They turned the corner and suddenly the lights of camera bulbs flashed in their faces and Debbie squeezed his hand tighter.  
She parked the car and together they walked into the party, Debbie shielding Giovanni from the cameras when she could.

She pushed the double doors open for Giovanni and he followed her into the party, away from the lights of the camera into the blaring lights of the party and loud voices.  
He blinked, steadying himself on Debbie, clutching her arm, tripping over the carpet, the brightness blinding him.  
The older woman smiled up at Giovanni, pointing out Gorka, Kevin, and a few of the other male pro dancers, to him.  
He nodded, his hand wrapping tighter around Debbie's arm.  
The older woman said loudly, over the music, that she'd 'just be over there', motioning towards Ruth and Molly.  
Giovanni nodded again, reluctantly letting go of her, stumbling through the crowds of people towards his friends.

They greeted him with a grin and pressed a drink into his hand. He took it uncertainly, swallowing the liquid quickly nonetheless. A warm feeling flowed through his body and someone handed him another glass - he again drank, thirsty, uncaring of what it was.  
He dimly wondered where Debbie was, but then he drank another glass and another until his legs seemed to give way and he stumbled, grabbing onto people for support.

Firm hands lifted him from the ground, two or three pairs of hands; he couldn't tell; and then he was being carried.

A breeze hit his face - they were outside.  
A car door slammed, close to him, and he was moving but he wasn't being carried: he felt the motion beneath him. He tried to move his head, to look around him but his eyes wouldn't open and his head felt too heavy. His ears pounded and he felt faint, dizzy. 

A familiar voice soothed him, a familiar hand laid his head back down onto a surface, a familiar emotion surged through him: love.  
It was Debbie. It was always Debbie.


	21. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> This may actually be my last chapter (cue crying) but I'm really happy with how it turned out, although super short. It just felt right to end it like this.  
> Hope you guys all like and you have all been so lovely and supportive so thank you to all of you!   
> -x-  
> (Lil)

Lying down, Giovanni heard the door open, a sound that filled him with relief.

"Debbie?" He asked drowsily, lifting his head from the floor.  
He heard her footsteps come towards him and he smiled up at her.

"Hi love." Fondness was clear in her voice. "You're finally properly awake."  
The younger man rubbed his eyes sleepily. "How long was I out?"  
"Well, you woke up for a minute or so and then went completely again."  
He smiled again. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me."  
"It's alright - I'm just glad you're okay." Debbie leant over and caressed his shoulder.  
He reached up to her hand, catching her fingers in his. She grinned at him. "Stay there, I'll get you something eat - sweetheart, you must be hungry."  
On cue, his stomach grumbled and Debbie giggled.

"I'll be back in a second."

Giovanni nodded, carefully lifting himself off the floor, onto the sofa.  
His head felt fuzzy, his eyes, heavy and tired.

The older woman walked back into the room, carrying a plate full of mince pies. She shrugged; "it's Christmas tomorrow, so why not?"  
He smiled. "That's how long I've slept for?"  
"Well, you were awake and then asleep - you probably don't remember much."  
He shook his head, confused. "No, I don't really."

She moved beside him on the sofa. "Panto's mostly over now."  
He grinned. "Really? How's it going?"  
"It's going well actually."  
"I'm glad."   
He reached for a mince pie. "You know, I'm excited to be spending Christmas with you."   
She smiled, touching his arm, sending shivers up his spine. "So am I. I got you a present actually."  
His face lit up and Debbie laughed.   
"I got you one too." He admitted.

The older woman glanced at the clock. "Well, it's almost midnight anyway."  
Giovanni gasped. "You mean it's Christmas in a few minutes?"  
She grinned at him, his childish delight adorable. "I do."  
"One second." He told her, running upstairs to get her present. When he came back down, Debbie was smiling at him. "I'll just get mine for you." 

She returned a few seconds later and Giovanni scooted closer to her on the sofa, putting an arm around her.

Silently, they watched the clock strike midnight.

Giovanni turned to Debbie, her blue eyes meeting his.  
"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."


	22. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all,
> 
> Hopefully this chapter gives you enough background info for you to figure out most of what's happened, but any questions, feel free to ask. :)
> 
> Alrighty, I know I said I probably wouldn't write any more, but I had an urge to write and also an urge to destroy all happiness in the world (although maybe not so dramatic!) so I decided to write this. Please don't kill me.  
> Also, this is for the people who didn't want me to stop writing this fic.... so technically I'm actually fulfilling your wishes ;)   
> I'm sorry guys!

Waking up next to Debbie was like waking up to a ray of sunshine, a bright day, as if he was seeing her for the first time, falling in love from the beginning.

There was something different about this morning though, Giovanni frowned, glancing at the empty space next to him. 

Debbie wasn't there.

He called her name, over and over again. "Debbie. Debbie." And then more frantic, panicked, although he knew it was hopeless because she was gone. Or at least: for now.  
He supposed it was the fight they had last night. He didn't even remember what they were arguing about. He shook his head. He didn't know what he'd said or what he'd done - had he hurt her? The thought came crashing down on him, a wave of shame, of guilt.

He replayed the last few days in his head, a scowl on his face. It didn't make sense. Christmas had been amazing.

In his mind, Giovanni scanned over every little detail of Debbie's face: the way her lips quivered slightly, how her head rose when he talked, her blue eyes twitching occasionally. 

Then he distanced himself, imagining he was an outsider, looking in on a young Italian man and an older woman, together, giggling, on Christmas Day. His forehead creased - he didn't understand. To an outsider, despite the age gap, you could see that they were both happy, laughing, and, he smiled wistfully; hopelessly in love.

He shifted on the bed. Maybe that was it - was the relationship scaring her? Were they moving too fast? Why didn't she say anything?  
In desperation, the Italian man reached over, turning the duvet, his pillow, the blanket on the bed, in search of a note or a message. 

Nothing.

He checked his phone. 

Nothing.

His head in his hands, a tear escaped his brown eyes. What had he done to make her leave him like this? - Alone, frightened and tired.  
It was as if she was punishing him for something he had done, but wouldn't tell him his mistake.

He picked up his phone and clicked on Debbie's name.  
Their previous conversation came into view from last night.  
His eyes widened. She had sent it at exactly midnight.

'Giovanni, I love you, but I'm leaving.'

His fingers skimmed over the keyboard, unsure of what to say to her.  
He sighed, pocketing his phone in his trousers. He walked over to the mirror, wincing at his reflection. 

He was still in Debbie's house and the knowledge of that was trapping, confining: he needed to get out.

He walked downstairs, seeing the kitchen mostly empty. He was sure the fridge had been full last night.  
Out of the corner of his eye, Giovanni spotted a scrap of paper on the table and he lunged towards it; perhaps it was a message from Debbie.

He could make out faint writing if he squinted at the paper, but the words were crossed out, as if each sentence Debbie had written she had then thought better of.  
Only one word was legible, written boldly, at the bottom of the paper.

'I'm sorry.'


	23. The end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!   
> I know this is short but it just felt right writing it so I decided to post.  
> Thank you everyone for being so supportive and lovely.   
> Here's to a great 2018.
> 
> -x-

New Year without Debbie was like a punch to the stomach. Her absence caused his tears at night, without her arms around him, soothing him.

Watching the fireworks signalling the new year without Giovanni was horrible, Debbie realised. She had been horrible, leaving him. She had left him without thinking, angry and upset, although now she could hardly remember what they were arguing about.   
She wondered if he was thinking about her, but then brushed the thought away - of course he wasn't. But she missed him and she thought about him. 

They met by chance, passing each other on the street. 

Debbie glanced up and he was standing in front of her.  
"Sorry." He murmured, about to carry on walking.  
"Giovanni?" She stared at him. 

He smiled tiredly, his brown eyes creasing. "Did you forget about me?" He looked worried, running a hand through his hair. He looked thin too; he couldn't take care of himself.

The older woman shook her head slowly, tears brimming in her blue eyes. "Not for one second."  
Giovanni looked at her, properly, searching, like he was seeing her for the first time.  
He remembered the way her blonde hair framed her face, the way her mouth smiled; how beautiful she was.

"Are you okay?" Debbie asked him, and he broke out of his trance, blushing, self conscious.   
She wanted to tell him it was fine to look at her if he wanted, but she didn't.

"I'm sorry, I have to go." The Italian man excused himself, walking hurriedly past her, brushing a tear from his cheek.  
Debbie stood still for a second and then turned, searching for him in the crowd of people.  
She noticed him, walking quickly, almost running, his head down, like he didn't want to be seen.  
She smiled and followed him, weaving through people, never letting him out of her sight.

This time she wasn't going to let him go. Not now, not ever.

She called after him and he turned:

"I love you."


End file.
